


All Things Can Tempt Me

by Narcissistic_Ninny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Porn, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissistic_Ninny/pseuds/Narcissistic_Ninny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam never knew that side of his brother until that night at the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Things Can Tempt Me

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a poem by William Butler Yeats.

.|.|.

 

 

Sam stood there, unmoving.

It felt like his scuffed boots were permanently glued to the concrete. His breath halted, trapped in his chest and he forgot how to breathe. His eyes were too engrossed on the sight before him and he couldn’t find it in himself to move. Sweat was layering on his palms and collecting on the collar of his shirt.

He couldn’t even budge when there were two pairs of eyes on him, brown and green. His didn’t know what could have possibly given him away; his breathing couldn’t have, he wasn’t breathing, he didn’t even gasp. Maybe the back door of the bar might have creaked when he stepped outside, Sam wasn’t even sure anymore.

The bar Dean chose was a sleazy one, the kind Sam didn’t feel comfortable in; not that he ever liked any of the bars Dean chose. Dim lights barely illuminated the bar, an old jukebox in the corner played the kind of rock songs Dean liked. There were pool tables off to the corner and the seats creaked when you took a seat. The waitresses and bartenders were not the most pleasant to look at, which Dean pointed out more than once.

They had gone through a pitcher of Budweiser together before Dean started ordering hard liquor for himself, and Sam had called it a night; debating if he should stay with his brother, watch him get silly drunk or walk to the motel a few blocks down and not watch his brother flirt with anyone with a nice pair of tits. Dean had left the booth, heading to the bar and Sam was too busy chatting with a pretty brunette to notice that Dean was nowhere to be seen. He had gone to the back to look for Dean; he had seen him leave minutes earlier with a taller guy. He thought he might have been in danger and went back to find him.

Sam Winchester was used to seeing a lot of weird shit, but nothing could have prepared him to find Dean pressed against the brick wall of the dark alley, breath haggard with his jeans pooled around his ankles and boots, the taller man behind him, fucking Dean. The guy - that asshole - had his hands on Dean’s hips, holding him steady as he fucked him, grunting with every thrust. Dean groaned, chest heaving, eyes closed. One hand was balled into a fist, forearm braced against the wall, Dean’s forehead pressed against it.

Somewhere, far and distant, Sam could hear Led Zeppelin playing inside the bar and the clinks of glasses. It felt further away from the few yards that it actually, felt so far, and everything in him was so numb. Sam was unmoving, felt his eyes wander to where they were naturally drawn, and saw Dean’s hand wrapped tightly around his erection.

Hissing, Dean let out a string of curses under his breath as he stroked himself, biting his lower lip. The streetlight from the dim alleyway made the sweat on their brows shine, made their skin glisten, gave Dean a light pale glow. It felt like hours, but it mustn’t have been longer than a minute that Sam stood there, watching them. It was rough, aggressive, the way Sam always imagined fucking Dean….

_A way, way down inside, I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you every inch of my love…._ __  
  


Then, something gave him away, made them both aware of his presence. He didn’t move when they both suddenly looked in his direction like deer caught in the headlight. The guy behind him –the one fucking Dean- his hips momentarily stilled, eyes widening when he looked at Sam. Damp hair framed two startled brown eyes, pupils blown from lust, and he was staring at Sam, first startled, then quickly pissed that they had been interrupted.

Sam didn’t care, the guy could be pissed all he wanted, he couldn’t take his eyes off Dean.

First, they were clouded by lust, then realization that his little brother was watching hit, then he saw Dean’s face morph into something different from shock and anger like the guy behind him was wearing. What happened afterwards hit Sam like a train.

Dean broke into a grin.

Sam felt his heart hammering in his chest, trashing against his rib cage, and he thought maybe his heartbeat had given him away. Blood rushed to his face, and maybe blood didn’t go anywhere else because there wasn’t any way he was moving from his spot. Dean was watching him, smile in his eyes, dancing in a dazed sort of way.

Still with that handsome smirk on his face, Dean pushed off the wall a little, in return moving back and pushing against the man behind him. The other guy groaned despite himself, and there was a sharp pain in Sam’s palm.

The grin on Dean’s face broke only slightly for him to moan, but that smile-that goddamn smile was still in his eyes as he looked at Sam. He saw the guy behind him get confused, wondering why he was watching, wondering why Dean was looking at him, locking eyes with him, holding him there. Sam couldn’t believe how tight his jeans felt, couldn’t believe his briefs were already wet with pre cum.

His stomach flares, and it twists with desire.

It was like Dean knew, because his lips part more, unveiling white teeth. He looks so heated, and powerful, even if he was the one with a cock in his ass. He had all the cards, and Sam was helpless, left just standing there and watching. Dean licked his lips, and Sam could see Dean still stroking himself, slow and deliberate, like he was concentrating on the sensations.

When Sam tore his gaze, he saw his hands had curled into tight fists; fingernails cutting into his palm until they bled. Sam swallowed the bile threatening to rise, then turned back and headed back into the bar, pushing the back door open, wanting to get consumed in the clanking of beer mugs and the sounds of Johnny Cash singing ‘ _Cocaine Blues’_ from the jukebox. 

Before the door shut behind him, he heard a gruff voice, thick with lust ask, “Still wanna continue?”

Dean grunted, then answered, “Yeah, just fucking move.”

 

 

.|.|.

 

 

The motel they were staying in was nothing special. The bath was small, even for motel standards, and the pipes were so cold it took several minutes for the hot water to start running. Sam stood under the spray of the water, scrubbing his hands through his shampoo-lathered hair. Two days had gone by since he saw _that_ and he couldn’t forget it. The guy that had been behind Dean - with brown eyes and shoulder length black hair - he didn’t know what Dean saw in him. What made him attracted to him; what it was about that guy that made it ok to have that guy fuck him.

After he had caught them, Sam had gone back inside and ordered more drinks for himself, the image of his brother being fucked burned more than the drinks did when it went down his throat. Minutes had gone by before Dean had come back inside, seated himself next to Sam and drank as if nothing strange had happened.

Two days went by and Dean continued to make jokes, make references to Star Trek and were currently working on a case of a vengeful ghost as if nothing had happened. Sam hadn’t asked, hadn’t pressed Dean why he never though to mention he fucked men as well as women. He was angry. Angry because Dean never said anything. If he had known, Sam might have-

He shook his head, sighing under the spray and washed the shampoo from his hair, white foam running down his body. He wouldn’t have done anything even if he had known.

Just because he had imagined being the one fucking Dean didn’t mean Dean would like the idea. It was one thing if Dean slept with men; it was another if he was into fucking his little brother. Sam never gave any signs that he loved him in ways a brother shouldn’t. Ever since Dean had taken him away from Stanford he had been enjoying the time spent with Dean.

Even so, he could never shake off his desire to touch him, couldn’t keep himself from sneaking glances at Dean when he came out from a shower. But he never said a word about his feelings. He couldn’t. He knew Dean wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings, so he kept that part of himself hidden. Hidden and tucked away because Sam Winchester was a freak.

He liked to preserve the idea of himself as a normal guy. Hell, even Dean bought it. Dean liked to think he was normal, more normal than Dean was anyways. Dean thought if anyone had a chance of living a normal life, it was him.

It wasn’t fucking true.

Even if Dean and the rest of the world bought it, it wasn’t fucking true. He screwed his eyes shut, let his hand lower down his abdominals, trailing his hand down, fingertips brushing over the hairs under his navel that lead to his groin, hands inching towards his cock. He wrapped his hand around his already half hard cock, thought about the way Dean had been stroking himself, getting fucked, and damn if he didn’t look like he was enjoying it.

He had tried to strangle all those feelings, all those thoughts he had about Dean, tried to shove them aside and bury them deep down inside himself, hoping it was a phase, wishing it would go away. Maybe if he buried it far enough, even he would forget about it with time. Sam squeezed his cock tightly at the base and began to stoke himself, his palm moving over his dick, already leaking pre-cum just thinking of fucking Dean, having him bent over and fucking him until Dean was a shuddering mess.

Eyes closed, Sam saw that steady gaze that had been stuck in his mind since that night. It was a terrifying mixture of hot sex and challenge, and Sam still couldn’t fathom why Dean had looked at him that way. That smile had been haunting him, plaguing Sam’s thoughts and disrupting his dreams.

_That goddamn handsome smile of his..._

It scared the shit out of him, how much he wanted him, how willing he was to do anything Dean wanted. How much he loved him. He raised his free hand, flattened his palm on the wet tiles, bracing himself as he felt his body surging, his legs beginning to quiver slightly as he got closer to his orgasm, replaying that image of Dean fucking grinning while jerking himself off.

His stomach twisted as he pumped his flushed weeping cock. Despite his resolve to keep quiet, to keep Dean from hearing him –who was right outside - he couldn’t help the quiet moans escaping him. Behind closed lids he images Dean under him, head thrown back and moaning his name.

The hand on his cock moved faster, pumping harder; thrusting into his hand and grunting. His teeth bit down on his lip, and he keeps imaging Dean, naked and sweaty, arching and damn if he isn’t getting close. His hips move frantically, and his whole body tenses with his efforts of trying to delay his own orgasm. He gave a few strokes before he released his orgasm in thick spurts, coming on the titled wall.

Thick droplets of water clung to his lashes, blurring his vision for a bit. Then again, he might have been delirious from orgasm.

 

 

.|.|.

 

 

They eventually solved the case of the ghost, found out where a Sally Wilmot was buried and burned her corpse. Digging up her grave had taken forever, and to make things worst, a few cops had given them a chase, but with Dean’s driving they were able to escape without making it on the news. It was one of the few times Sam was happy that Dean drove like the devil was behind him. 

After they checked into a different motel, Dean had taken the few steps it took to reach the bed and fell face down on it. Sam looked up and down his long lean body. He tore his eyes away and dropped his bag by the TV. He rubbed his eyes, feeling tired all of a sudden. “I’m gonna take a shower, ok?”

A muffled ‘ok’ was heard from Dean, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed.

Ten minutes went by in the shower- jerking himself off included – before Sam stepped out of the tub, onto the tiled floor. He towel dried himself, smiled a bit when he heard the sound of the TV playing. He didn’t recognize the show, but knew Dean was probably completely engrossed in it, even if he denied it.

When he stepped out from the bathroom he saw Dean sprawled on the bed. His boot-clad feet were still planted on the ground, legs spread and with only his upper half on the bed, head cushioned by his hands crossed behind his skull. His green shirt was hitched up, exposing pointed hipbones. Sam let his eyes rake over him in while he muttered something about the shower being free now.

His eyes continued to travel over the counters over Dean’s body, but when he reached his brother’s eyes, they weren’t completely engrossed in the TV; they were boring into Sam. He felt something trickle down his neck, and he didn’t know if it was water from his hair running down or if he had begun sweating under his brother’s gaze, looking at him from under thick lashes, a bold smirk on his face. Dean sat up, still grinning, almost chuckling.

Sam looked away, went to his boxers and pulled them on under the towel still around his waist, turning his back to Dean. He felt Dean’s eyes on him, but still kept his back to him, instead looking down at his feet, stepping to his bed and to lie down, settling his brown hair on the pillow, looking at the TV.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for, the shower is all yours,” he said, voice stern to try to keep his cool, avoiding looking at Dean.

Dean stood up, kicking off his boots, toed off his socks before stepping in front of him, blocking the TV. His eyebrows knitted together, eyes lingering on Sam. Slowly, Sam’s eyes crawled up to his face, meeting Dean’s. His stomach twisted again; that look, that same look Dean had given him that night at the bar. Eyes on each other, Dean lifted his shirt over his head, smirking when he saw Sam watching him. Dean was still studying, his own expression ambiguous as he read Sam like a book, and Sam felt so exposed to him, made him feel uncomfortable.

“Come on Sammy, don’t you think I’ve noticed the way you look at me?” Dean asked suddenly.

Sam turned his head to the side, not meeting Dean’s eyes, didn’t want to see that playful edge to them, ignored the flirtatiousness in his tone.

“I know you think I don’t notice, think big brother is too busy looking at girls.” He chuckled, “I am, not gonna lie, but I’ve noticed.”

“Drop it Dean,” Sam muttered, for lack of a better response. He couldn’t deal with this right now.

“If you say so,” he said calmly. Sam looked up in time to see hands; crusted with dried blood, dirt under his fingernails, moving to the hem of his jeans, slowly pulling down the zipper of his jeans. He shimmied them off his hips, letting them fall to his feet. He stepped out of them, standing in just his boxers.

The room felt stiff, air so thick Sam couldn’t breathe. He let out a shaky breath as his eyes trailed over his brother’s figure, taking in his toned thighs, firm solid torso and arms. He forced himself to look into his brother’s eyes, not anywhere else, he didn’t want his eyes to travel back to his abs and legs, not to the bulge in his boxers. And his face - his goddamn face - long lashes and childlike freckles made Sam suppress a groan.

Breathe Sam.

_Breathe._

“Don’t you think I saw your face when you saw me at the bar?” Dean asked, voice rich and seductive.

Sam couldn’t argue. He expected Dean to ask about it, maybe be angry; anything but be amused. He wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t dismiss the blush on his face either, couldn’t hide from it, and wanted Dean to stop looking at him like that. “Why did you let him?” he asked in a whisper.

“Let him what?”

“Fuck you,” Sam asked, almost spit it out, but he calmed himself.

Dean’s face was still, unmoving for a few moments before his lips tugged and he smirked again. “It feels good Sammy.”

The casual way he had said it made something in Sam stop, made time freeze. Then Dean knelt on the mattress, naked except for his black boxers, knees on either side of Sam’s waist. Dean’s head dropped slightly, squaring his shoulders before he closed the distance between them. “And you know what?” He whispered, leaning in close to Sam, “I can make you feel damn good too.” He pushed Sam back on the bed. Sam fell back easily, looking up at his brother with startled eyes.

To Sam’s amazement, he kissed him. _Dean_ kissed him.

He tasted like sugar from the cherry pie he had eaten at the diner before going to the motel. Dean parted his mouth, and Sam did as well, feeling Dean’s tongue slip into his mouth, gently stroking his own tongue. His lips moved in a way that made Sam lose all thought. It was a sweet kiss, not at all what he imaged from Dean.

Dean’s hands were running over Sam’s sides, and the heat running through Sam made his heart beat faster, felt adrenaline pumping in his veins, and it was getting to his head. He couldn’t quite get over that Dean was over him, warm solid weight on him, pressed against him and kissing him. Touching him…

Arousal strummed through him when Dean rubbed them together, sucking on Sam’s throat as he let out a guttural moan. His breathing was coming in, short and fast, more so when Dean’s hand palmed his boxer-clad erection, rubbing and squeezing through the cotton fabric. He rubbed just right, in a way that made Sam struggle for breath, made him weak.

Heat rose to his cheeks when Dean’s hand let him go to dive his hand in his underwear, past the band to grip him. Sam felt his erection, tight and ready to burst in Dean’s hand. Dean cocked his head to the side, a playful smile on his lips. “Your body is so honest, even if you try to lie to me.”

Firm fingers continued to stroke him, ripping moans out of Sam. He was losing it, control leaving him as Dean’s wonderful fingers worked Sam. Realization that he hadn’t done anything except moan for it hit Sam. He didn’t want to be the one just lying there. Sam grabbed Dean, flipping him so he was the one on top.

Dean looked up at him, then broke into a grin. “Control freak.”

He didn’t answer, instead buried his teeth in Dean’s neck, Dean titled his head to the side, allowing more room for Sam to continue raking his teeth across his flesh. Dean groaned under him, and free hand running over Sam’s body, feeling every inch of him, over his sides, over his arms, thumbing over his nipples. Sam hissed, closing his eyes, enjoying the intensified feeling when he wasn’t looking at Dean, not knowing what he would do next, where his hands might wander next. It intensified the feeling of his firm hand stroking his cock.

_There’s no way this could possibly be right._

Grabbing hold of Dean’s thighs, he spread his legs him under him. He noticed the way Dean’s cheeks flared as his fingers worked inside of him, watched as Dean’s face twisted into pleasure and the best kind of pain. Back arching, panting until their breath mingled together, it was the best thing Sam had seen. Sam felt himself taking control again, watching his brother make that face, shivering because of that tight heat surrounding his fingers, wanting it to surround him. He regretted not telling Dean something sooner, hated that he could have been doing this instead of fighting over who had control of the remote for the night all this time.

They find some cheap motel lotion and use it as lube. Dean applies it on Sam’s cock, brazen grin never leaving his face. Then Dean lay back on the bed, thighs parting under Sam. Vibrant green eyes looked at him, waiting. There was a light flush under the freckles peppered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Holding his hips, Sam moved inside of him, pushing past that tight ring of muscle, both letting out choked moans as he entered him. Sam’s mouth went dry as Dean squeezed around him, heat engulfing him, surrounding him and swallowing him in his warmth. He slid into him until his balls hit his ass, watching himself disappear. He massaged Dean’s toned thighs and when he relaxed, Sam started to move.

He pulled out a little and started to thrust in between Dean’s thighs, panting hard, chest heaving with exertion. His head starts to swim with the way Dean is arching, letting his head fall back and moaning. Its tearing Sam apart, and he wants it, needs it more than anything. Ravaging his body with his teeth and tongue, he dives into Dean faster.

Using his hand to brace himself more steadily, He fucks him hard, and every time he slams back inside of that tight heat, Dean’s eyes flutter and his hands fist the sheets. Dean rolls his hips forward, juts his hips to meet Sam every time. He can’t help but gasp into his mouth. He bites on Dean’s lower lips before he smirks and pounds into him until the bed starts to creak.

_This feels so right._

He bent down, kissing him hard, alternating between biting on his lips and sucking on his tongue. Dean’s hands fly to his hair, yanking and kissing back with unrelenting passion. It’s so raw and powerful; Sam can fell Dean shivering beneath him, muscles clenching around him. The flush on Dean’s cheeks spread to his neck and ears, and he looks just so damn good to Sam, wanting and oh so willing.

Dean’s hand went to his cock, but Sam caught his wrist before he could wrap his fingers around himself. A whine broke from Dean’s lips, replaced by a long low moan when Sam began to stroke him, pumping his flushed cock. He can feel Dean throbbing in his palm, and he’s close-if the look of sheer bliss on his face is anything to go by. He’s falling apart, but then again, so is Sam. His thrusts are becoming uneven, breath coming in harsh pants.

Stimulation spiked and his stomach twisted in pleasure at the sight of Dean’s flushed face, lips parted and eyes closed, breathing his name as he jerked him off with short, rough strokes. Dean struggled for air; then Sam pressed his thumb to the head of his erection, giving a squeeze to his cock. His other hand dug into Dean’s side painfully, felt Dean’s muscles twitch under him, but he continued to moan and push back at Sam for more.

He gave him just that, fucking him hard enough that the sound of their skin slapping together echoed in the room, rang in Sam’s head. He saw his brother shatter under him; cock pulsing and whispering Sam’s name like it was special. Watching him made him follow him and his orgasm took over, head spinning as his body surged in ecstasy, and he spilled his release inside of Dean.

They drifted in an orgasmic haze, shifting to pull apart from each other, the room too silent all of a sudden. Sam was still trying to wrap his head around what they had done, he had fucked his brother and he would gladly do it again in a heartbeat. His eyes were on the ceiling, but he could feel Dean eying him. Neither moved.

Dean was the first to recover. He sat up in bed; stretching and Sam heard his back crack. Sam sat up on his elbows, watching him warily. Dean laughed, his chuckles low and breathy, shaking his entire body, and he looked at Sam from over his shoulder, grinning ear to ear. “Wow Sam, you really are a freak.”

This time, hearing the word freak didn’t really quite hurt Sam.

 

 

.|.|.

 

 

The night was still and calm. Quiet nights made Sam uneasy, made him worry that something bad was going to happen. His mind was still hurdling over the idea of him sleeping with Dean. It had been great, the best sex of his life, yet, the morning was something of anticlimactic. Dean woke first, demanding breakfast at the diner, where he watched Dean eat the greasiest thing on the menu. Dean didn’t mention anything about the night before, so Sam didn’t.

After that the entire day had been anticlimactic. There wasn’t a case to work on, nothing going on, and it just didn’t settle well with Sam. He was sitting alone in the motel room, waiting for Dean to return. The doorknob rattled, and Dean came back from getting them food. Two brown bags were bundled in his arm as he closed the door after him. He reached inside, handing Sam a packaged salad and a sandwich wrapped tight in plastic. Dean took out a sub for himself, which he chewed on noisily while he watched TV. When he finished his sub he happily ate his slice of apple pie, and Sam took the opportunity to sneak a few glances.

Eyes still on the TV, Dean muttered –with a mouthful of pie, “I can feel you staring Sammy.” He turned to look at him. “Though I can’t blame you, I am pretty handsome,” he grinned after swallowing the last bits of pie.

“You wish,” Sam snorted, throwing the plastic wrapper of his sandwich at Dean.

They bickered and threw crumpled up napkins at each other, calling each other bitch and jerk until the show was over. When the credits rolled, Dean sighed, moving to lie on his back on his bed. He lolled his head to the side, looking at Sam. “You know Sammy, you could try making the first move once in a while. I know you’re shy, but grow a pair.”

Sam’s palms felt sweaty, and his head began to swim even before he realized he had stood and walked over to Dean, sitting next to him on. Dean quirked an eyebrow and sat up on his elbows, looking at him from under his brow, waiting for him to move. Dean was putting this all up to Sam. The last time, Dean has initiated the sex.

It was suddenly a lot of pressure on Sam. Sure, once Dean had started, Sam was fast to take control. It was completely different when it was left to him, when he was the one going to start things. Dean wasn’t moving, but Sam was going to. He crawled over his brother, trapping him between his knees and hands planted on either side of him, staring down at him.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Dean said, breaking into a lazy grin. “I’m horny.”

Taking a deep breath before he dove into this love, a place he couldn’t turn back from, he leaned down, connecting their lips.

The kiss started off slow. A lazily exploration of each other’s mouths. Dean kissed him, almost tenderly, hands roaming over him, sliding over Sam’s chest to his neck. Then his hands were in Sam’s hair and he tugged, yanking Sam’s head back and Dean bit down on his neck, licking a line from his collar to his ear, then kissed his jaw.

When he reached his mouth the kiss became frantic, they pressed their lips against the others in a rough kiss, breathing heavily through their noses. Sam pressed his hips down, gasping when he felt the long hard length of Dean’s erection against it. He rubbed against him, gritting his teeth in frustration. There was too much clothes between them.

Their hands slipped over the other’s skin, catching and gripping hair, yanking and pulling at shirts and jeans until they were both naked, skin flush against each other. Somewhere in the struggle to take off each other’s clothing, Dean ended up on top. Sam threw his hips up against Dean, rubbing their erections together in fantastic friction. A wet tongue lapped at his chest, teeth captured nipples and made Sam shiver. 

He didn’t like feeling this vulnerable. He’s never this open and vulnerable. He doesn’t like allowing himself in a position where he can’t draw on his own strength, but fuck, Dean is just making him whine and gasp, and sensations just ripple through him. His eyes roll back and he’s starting to relax, he’s completely ok with this. He opens up to Dean, grabs a handful of short hair and drags him down. Wet lips on his warm ear, he whispers into his ear that he wants him, fingers digging into Dean’s biceps.

Sam’s newfound impatience is getting the best of him, his mind is on fire, and he can’t think of anything other than his want for his brother. Dean breaks away, looking at Sam. He could feel his own expression, filled with want, and he was already breathing hard just from the kiss. He was already hard. Dean smirked, leaned down where his jeans were on the floor, dug into the pockets and pulled out a condom. He looked at Sam as he ripped the wrapper with his teeth. Sam swallowed, watching Dean put it on, adding the cheap motel lotion, feeling hunger swiftly growing in him.

Before Sam could tell him to stop looking at him like that, Dean flipped him so Sam was on his stomach. Hands sprayed over his back, down his spine, down until they groped his ass. Sam bit his lip, felt the moans trying to escape where he trapped them in his throat, trying to hold back. The hot head of Dean’s cock presses against him, and he knew Dean was slick with lube, and he wanted him inside. He didn’t have to ask before Dean was pressing inside, causing him to suck air through clenched teeth.

The hands on his hips held him steady as he pushed forward, entering him slowly. The pleasure was so overwhelming he moaned and arched his back. He could feel every inch of Dean inside of him, felt his hips press firmly to his ass. He heard Dean exhale shakily behind him before he started rocking his hips slowly, fucking Sam agonizingly slow, until he groaned; biting his lip to keep from begging for more.  

Ends up he didn’t have to beg, Dean’s warm palm went to the back of his neck, pushing Sam’s head into the pillow. Dean fucked him faster, building a steady rhythm and grunting with every slap of skin. He kept thrusting back against his prostate, hitting those bundle of nerves that made Sam weak and quiver. Gasps are falling freely from his mouth, and he can’t believe he’s giving someone this much control, but it’s Dean.

And he trusts Dean.

“Like it Sammy?” Dean asks, can almost hear the arrogance his tone.

Sam didn’t answer; instead he pushes his ass back, fitting more of Dean into him. He’s not usually like this, so helpless to his desire, but he wants Dean, wants more, so much he can’t stand it, can’t ask for it, but somehow, Dean knows. He figures this must be why so many women are driven to go to bed with Dean. He’s a _great_ fuck.

Dean starts to slow, teasing him as the hands on his hips wander up, fingers softly moving over his ribs, a tickling sensation before he moves to his spine and down to his round ass. Sam is already sensitive, and he just wants to come, but he bites his lips from telling Dean to fucking move faster. He clamps down on him. Dean pulls out, slowly, and Sam blushes at the thought of Dean doing it to watch himself disappear into his ass. He aches for climax, aches for Dean to fuck him hard.

The precision and quickness of Dean’s thrusts return, slamming back inside his body and making Sam jolt, pleasure spiking in him. Dean ground down his hips on him every time he was fully inside of him. His balls slapped against Sam’s ass as he pounded into him. He squeezes around Dean, soaking in the sound of Dean moaning in response.

He felt elated, so light.

Using the bed frame as leverage, he pushes back. Wet lips land at the base of his neck, then there’s teeth, biting down, and fingernails dragging down his sides, and he can almost hear Dean growling as he presses his chest to Sam’s back until they’re flush against each other. Dean sped his rhythm and with his near perfect aim, he sent Sam spiralling over the edge in no time, coming hard on the sheets, hands fisted, skin pulled so tight over his knuckles they turned white. His orgasm hit him hard, fierce and hot.

Dean thrust into him a few times, erratically and almost wild. His hips gave more jerks, and Sam reached backed, caressed his balls. Dean let out a string of curses under his breath, and then Dean reached his orgasm, falling apart behind him.

Sam wished he could have seen his face.

Dean slips out and lies panting next to him. He’s grinning lazily, his eyes sparkling with something like a smile, something satisfactory, but it might just be the sex. Sam’s too caught up looking into his eyes to notice Dean’s hand move towards him, doesn’t notice until he ruffles his hair. Sam frowned at his brother.

“So you don’t cry after sex,” Dean said, mock astonishment laced in his voice. “I’m proud.”

“Shut up,” Sam said, but still couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face, despite the fact that he had tried to look annoyed.

Dean laughed, pulling him by his wrist and kissing him.

It felt good, deeper somehow, that combined with the hand in his hand, gently cradling the side of his face, it all felt more intimate that having his cock inside of him. Sam almost wants to curl into him, wants his brother’s arms around him. He likes lying like that, tangled limbs and sharing oxygen, both sweaty and grinning like idiots. Dean’s other head treaded with Sam’s fingers, firmly holding his hand.

Sam smiled.

 

 

.|.|.

 

 

“Hey Sam.”

There are hands on him, he can feel them, trying to pull him away from sleep. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut. He hasn’t gotten enough hours in.

“Wake up.”

The hands are persistent, grabbing his shoulders. There’s a gentle hand moving strands of hair away from his face, touch so tender before there was light slap on his cheek. He finally opened his eyes, Dean’s green eyes boring into him, face inches away from his. Sam sat up slowly on the leather seats of the Impala, blinking his eyes. It was still dark out, and the car had been pulled over to the side of the road. He saw Dean smiling. “What?”

Dean nudged him, “Come on.”

The door to the driver’s side opened, and Dean stepped out. Sam blinked, rubbed his eyes and opened his door, stepping out. The gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked over to his older brother, who was seated on the hood of the Impala. Sam looked at his brother, and his lips quirked. He looked ahead. They hadn’t done this in a long time.

They watched the sun rise.

Red rays hit the horizon as the sun rose. The sun shone on the river before them, light catching on the rippling water bank, and the lush landscape was bathed in a golden light. Sam turned, watching the sun hit Dean’s skin, gentle light touching his brown hair, making his eyes shine. He can spot bite marks, dents from where his teeth had sunk into Dean’s skin. He knows there must be pink marks running vertically over Dean’s back, and he doesn’t regret leaving his brother in that state.

The night before had been amazing. They couldn’t get enough of each other, they had sex several times on the motel bed, then twice in the shower when they had called it night and just wanted to clean up. They had barely gotten any sleep before they got a call and started to head north two states.

Dean smiles, eyes ahead, and Sam wasn’t sure if he was smiling because of his obvious staring or because of the promise of a new day. He turned his head to look at Sam. “Want a beer? I have some in the back seat.”

“Dean, it’s five in the morning.”

“So?”

“Idiot,” he laughed, leaning in and kissing him.

He felt Dean’s lips quirk into a smile and kiss him back, his hand massaging the back of Sam’s neck. The gentle pressure consumed him, and his lips and fingers was the only thing that mattered to Sam at the moment. Somewhere around them, birds started to chirp, but neither of them noticed, too wrapped up in each other.

It was a good morning.

 

 

 

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End file.
